


halfway there / easy lover

by emkayss



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, but yeah this has no real plot, just fluff, really vague blowjobs, super very vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emkayss/pseuds/emkayss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because somehow during this whole ordeal home has become synonymous with Suga’s smile, his fingers, the way his eyes light up when Daichi walks in a room, rather than the place where Daichi sleeps at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	halfway there / easy lover

**Author's Note:**

> i've been on a huge daisuga kick recently, and thus this fic was born. i'm on tumblr @emkayss if you want to roll around in daisuga hell with me. enjoy!

It’s in the way he twists his finger around Daichi’s. How he smiles out of the corner of his eye. When he reaches over and spins Daichi’s watch around, so it faces up.

Suga’s laughing at him, he always is, he’s laughing at the way Daichi’s fallen over headfirst to try and keep the ball off the floor, holding onto Suga’s sleeve as he slips, tips over, and rights himself in one deft movement. Not necessarily graceful, he’s not Suga, who does everything like a ballerina, on the tips of his toes, the balls of his feet, even though Daichi supposes that analogy doesn’t quite add up. Daichi’s not exactly graceful, but deft. Falling, falling, falling, Daichi’s still falling, on his ass, on his face, into some kind of crazy world where he and Suga are a thing. Okay, maybe he’s already fallen into that one.

He doesn’t mind falling down that particular rabbit hole, because it’s more like everything’s suddenly fallen into place and all of the pieces of the puzzle somebody’s been putting together are working, they’re figuring out which side fits where, how this and that works, what the bigger picture is. Sliding the missing piece into that last spot. Falling into place. Daichi likes the sound of that.

Practice is somehow different than it was in their first year, when lingering looks were dismissed and Daichi woke up confused and hard. It takes him a while to wrap his head around that, not entirely believing he's blinking away images of Suga, shirtless and skin blossomed to a pale pink, making noises Daichi didn't even believe were possible.

But it’s a better sort of different, where he works on not falling on his face and looks forward to what comes after; the clubroom’s locked up and Hinata and Kageyama are bickering somewhere else, when Suga appears out of nowhere and slides his fingers through Daichi’s, bringing him home, because somehow during this whole ordeal home has become synonymous with Suga’s smile, his fingers, the way his eyes light up when Daichi walks in a room, rather than the place where Daichi sleeps at night.

And Daichi’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual, he’s pretty sure he’s not the only one who daydreams about an apartment filled with Suga’s tidy piles and Daichi’s mess, of warm breakfasts and late dinners.

Daichi’s got his head in Suga’s lap one day, and he’s running his hands through Daichi’s short hair, magic sparking through to Daichi’s brain when Suga’s magic fingers touch his skin, magic that wills Daichi to fess up, to describe exactly how the light will flood in their bedroom window, how it will trip and fall in Suga’s hair and turn it gold, make the creamy skin of his back glow. Daichi traces his finger in the air as if he were connecting the freckles on Suga’s back into constellations.

Suga catches Daichi’s hand midair and brings it to his mouth, brings it to his lips and Daichi relaxes. He lets all the stress of his last year of high school fall away, of the crazy first-years he’s in charge of, and then, _shit_ , he needs to remember to hand out those permission forms for the next training camp, he doesn’t need Tsukishima’s mom hounding after him again for not properly taking care of her son, and Daichi lets his hand fall from Suga’s grip. Suga’s eyebrows draw together slightly when he asks Daichi what the matter is. Daichi answers by wrapping his fingers around the back of Suga’s neck, thumbs in the silky mess of his hair, tells him it's nothing to worry about when tugs him down to him until their lips are touching, ever so slightly, but enough. Suga pulls away, tells Daichi that if they’re going to make out they’d better do it right, and then Suga’s lying on his back, Daichi propped up above him on one arm, the other flicking over Suga’s hipbone just under the waistband of his shorts. Suga’s smiling, he’s always smiling, and Daichi smiles back, and he finally ducks his head to kiss Suga, slow and careful at first, like it always is, and then it’s hot, hungry as soon as Daichi works up the nerve to open his mouth.

Daichi worms Suga out of his shirt, stuck for a minute at the sight of his bare chest. He watches his chest rise and fall for a minute that lasts a moment too long before Suga flicks him in the forehead and starts wrestling Daichi’s shirt off.

Suga props himself up on his elbows when they're both shirtless, back curved to get the best access to Daichi's mouth. His fingers catch at the nape of Daichi's neck, then smooth down the line of his spine. He lets his fingers pool for a moment at the small of Daichi's back, and then tip-toe them back up again to hold him down while Suga reaches up to meet him.

Their whole relationship seems, as it develops, to be a series of meetings. They meet each other in the middle. Suga can finish what Daichi's trying to say, they can help articulate what the other is feeling. Suga’s hand is always halfway to Daichi’s. They meet halfway to each other. To a kiss.

It's always been like this; their lips close together without any kind of thought over and over, like waves crashing on a shore over and over again, dragging everything back into the wide and unpredictable sea. It drags Daichi under, when Suga loops his fingers under the waistband of his shorts and pulls, pulls and pushes him beneath the black waves, but he doesn't mind it. He only comes up for air when he has to, only when Suga's mouth is on him and he can't help but groan out Suga’s name, _Koushi,_ between his teeth and scramble for Suga's hand, squeezing the life out of his fingers when his eyes explode into stars and his body goes limp.  

He's breathless, boneless, when Suga crawls back and settles beside him. Daichi rolls on top of Suga, whispering a _your turn_ into his ear before mouthing his way down Suga's chest.

Later, when shirts and shorts are forgotten somewhere on the floor, and Daichi's comfortable with nothing between them but sticky skin and sweat, Suga tells Daichi what he dreams about before he falls asleep. 

A plan starts to take shape. An idea that works its way out of the mud, slowly, so slowly, with barely a word to encourage it, barely a shared thought. It germinates when Daichi and Suga are accepted into universities in a city a world away, with that giddy look shared between them when it’s realized what that means, what opportunities that opens up. The first leaf breaks through the soil when they both say yes, to the school, to the city, to each other. Yes to everything. _Yes._  

The flower blooms, nervous and excited braided together, bright,  _alive_. They sign the lease on a tiny apartment halfway between their respective schools, and maybe it's not everything Daichi's ever hoped and dreamed, but the windows aren't going to dam any of the morning light. He can make do.

Daichi doesn’t mind at all packing up his stuff from the shelf above his bed at home into boxes, unpacking it beside Suga’s things. Their books share a bookshelf, their jackets collect dust in the same closet at the front door. They leave their shoes at the same _genkan_ after a long night of exploring the city, collapse into the same bed.

The bed's the first priority in the furniture department. It’s decided plates can wait a few days, everything else can wait a few days, but Daichi can only sleep on a futon for so long. (Suga laughs at him, asks him exactly how many times he’s slept on a futon, how many times has he been to a training camp, slept over at Suga’s house. Daichi laughs and shoves Suga in the ribs, _yeah, Koushi, because I was_ always _sleeping on the floor at your house._ Daichi figures Suga knows he just wants an excuse to sleep with him on something made for two full-sized humans who have a lot of sex.)

The home they make in that tiny apartment grows, grows with the potted plant sitting on the windowsill in the kitchen, unfolding carefully and guided towards the sun. Yeah, sometimes they forget to water it, sometimes Suga snaps at Daichi when he doesn't bother to do what he'd asked, but they just end up tugging each other closer together when they’re falling asleep.

It’s studying, studying, and more studying. Daichi’s reviewing over his bowl at breakfast, and Suga’s giving the steaming pan with their supper in it a lesson in psychology. Daichi watches as he stirs it, once, twice, sees if he can repeat that one memory type that he can never remember aloud. 

Sometimes Daichi wakes up in the middle of the night, when the only light coming in their window is sickly orange and he can hear cars moving and taking people to the places they want to go. He forgets for a minute that he’s not dreaming up the grey head pillowed beside him, that he isn't imagining the extra set of quiet breathing. Sometimes he has to run his fingers down Suga’s arm, playing his fingers like the keys of a piano, and when Suga blinks awake, turning over asking Daichi what’s up, Daichi feels his lips turn up in a sloppy, sleep filled grin, and he tells Suga the truth. _I’m just happy you’re here._

* * *

It’s in the way he twists his finger around Daichi’s. How he smiles out of the corner of his eye. When he reaches over and spins Daichi’s watch around, so it faces up.

How he tugs Daichi back in by the collar of his jersey, _number one,_ it says, _number one indeed,_ for another kiss, how he smiles against his lips.

Daichi doesn’t know when he figured it out, exactly. Doesn't know when he fell in love.

_But was he ever not in love?_   

As if he knows what he’s thinking (and who’s Daichi kidding, _of course_ Suga knows what he’s thinking; he has insane mind reading powers) Suga rolls over in his sleep and tucks his head under Daichi’s chin. 

Yeah. Daichi thinks this has been a long time coming.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the plant was a housewarming gift from oikawa ;)
> 
> EDIT: this fic is kind of a sequel to [better, still,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3945637) a much more substantial daisuga fic i wrote that follows suga leading up to the start of daichi and suga's relationship.


End file.
